Weaver of Lies
Norrin, weaver of lies, stopped humming as he realised that the stream was a lot wider now, after the rain. “Why couldn’t it rain a day later”, he muttered to himself, “then I wouldn’t have to get my feet wet.”
His frown turned into a grimace when his feet went into the cold water. “By the nine hells, why rain, why?” He exclaimed angrily as he walked up the bank on the other side.
“Because they want you, Norrin.”, a deep, growling voice called out.
Norrin almost dropped his shoes as he tried to spot the person talking.
“Warr, is that you?”
Some bushed parted, revealing a man at least a head taller than Norrin and most definitely at least twice as strong. “Indeed it is”, as Warr spoke Norrin could feel the voice rumbling in his chest, “I must say, I never expected myself able to surprise you.”
Norrin sighed and kneeled down to put his shoes back on. “You had help from the rain.”
“And your intolerance to cold, it would seem.”
Even while looking down Norrin could hear the pride in Warr’s voice, something that could only be tolerated for a while.
Standing up, Norrin changed the subject: “What were you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be watching the camp?”
“Bah, soldiers have their routines, making it very easy to predict. It took me only two days to have all of it written down. I came here to meet you afterwards. Did you get all of the things you need?”
Patting his pouch Norrin looked at Warr and said: “All goodies present. Knowing you I’m guessing you also have an idea to best get into the camp.”
“Clearly I’m as predictable as ever, for it is indeed as you say.”
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